


How to Train Your Dragon (Astrid Genderbend)

by youwillneverknowmeinyourlife



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Body Worship, First Time Blow Jobs, French Kissing, Hickeys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwillneverknowmeinyourlife/pseuds/youwillneverknowmeinyourlife
Summary: The plot is basically the same as the movie but with added scenes and a male Astrid (Asmund).





	How to Train Your Dragon (Astrid Genderbend)

"Asmund . . . ah . . . Asmund," Hiccup moans quietly. He is on his back, shirtless and slightly sweating, the sheets twisting around him. His head with a mop of brown hair and bangs is turned to the side, whimpering into his now disheveled pillow.

A sudden noise jolts him awake. It is the bell tower sounding the alarm for dragons in Berk. Hiccup sits up to gather his thoughts before falling back and groaning in frustration. 

He runs his slender fingers through his messy bangs and sighs. He begins to climb out of bed to change into clothes before realizing his underpants are wet with precum. He bites his lip and gently palms his groin area, still annoyed that the alarm ruined a perfectly good dream.

Hiccup finally dresses in a hurry - foresty green shirt and pants, brown waistband, big brown fur boots, and vest. He wasted too much time already, and in his haste, he flings the door open without as much as a glance of caution. He realizes his mistake, and he pulls the door closed before a blast of dragon fire can hit him. He waits a moment in rapid breathing before opening the door a crack to make sure no dragon is lurking outside. Seeing none, he bolts out of his house.

He stays along the walls of buildings as Vikings rush into the streets, axes and hammers raised. Large and heavyset they are, all with tough and stubborn demeanors. But not Hiccup. He's different, and he knows it.

He gasps as arms suddenly pull him out of the way of a dragon. He looks up, realizing it's his father and chief of the tribe, Stoick the Vast.

"Hiccup?!" Stoick says. "What are you doing out again?! Get inside!"

Hiccup would be lying if he says there is a look of surprise on his father's face. There is no reason for him to be. Hiccup does this all the time.

"Are there any night furies?!" Hiccup hears his father call. There is a negative response, and Stoick looks relieved.

Hiccup takes this opportunity to continue his journey to the blacksmith stall. He ducks into the back and nearly runs into Gobber, a large and round blacksmith Viking.

"Ah! Nice of you to join the party. I thought you'd been carried off," Gobber says, half-joking and half-serious.

"Who me? Nah, come on! I'm way too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all this," Hiccup scoffs, striking a bodybuilder pose, his green eyes flashing heroically.

Gobber gives him a sarcastic look, glancing at Hiccup's skinny body, pale skin, and freckles. "They need toothpicks, don't they?"

Hiccup rolls his eyes as he slips on an apron. Vikings rush up for replacement weapons, and Hiccup transfers them to the forge.

He hears familiar voices and leans out the side window. Five teens are filling buckets of water to put out the flames. Fishlegs is a chubby but strong-looking Viking. Snotlout is a wide and muscular teen Viking with dark brown hair as opposed to Fishleg's blonde hair. The twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut are both gangly with long blonde hair in twists or braids. And then there is . . . Asmund Hofferson.

Asmund was tall, taller than Hiccup anyway, with blue eyes and perfect white skin. He doesn't wear a helmet like the others; instead, he wears a studded headband over his messy forelock of blonde hair. The locks of hair on the back of his head are pulled into a loose, thick braid. Stray strands frame his a face in a way that makes him look . . . sexy, Hiccup decides. 

He's wearing a green striped shirt with metal shoulder plates pinned to the sleaves with skull pins. There are tan cloth bracers on his arms and bicep wrappings above them. There's a belt decorated with silver skulls with a pouch tied to it, strands of red leather hanging from it. He wears dark blue pants with brown patches at the knees and studs at the seams. His boots consist of dark brown fur and light tan fur at the cuffs.

Hiccup suddenly blushes, remembering his sort of . . . wet dream. He almost moans at the thought of it, the sensations. He glances back up and realizes the group is passing the blacksmith stall. Impulsively, Hiccup begins to climb out the window in hopes of joining them in the battle, maybe even getting a word in with Asmund.

Before he knows it, he's being hoisted back inside and set on the ground by Gobber, who has been watching him like a hawk the entire time.

"Ah, come on. Let me out, please? I need to make my mark!" Hiccup begs.

"Oh, you've made plenty of marks, all in the wrong places," Gobber comments.

"Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date." He thrusts his hand out to gesture to Asmund who is still putting out fires with the group.

"You can't lift a hammer, you can't swing an ax, you can't even throw one of these," Gobber says, holding up a bola to make his point, up until a Viking snatches it from across the counter.

"Okay, fine, but," Hiccup says, pausing to run over to his latest invention, "this will throw it for me."  
He pulls on the trigger, and a bola launches from the arm. It misses Gobber and hits a Viking standing near the counter.

"See, now this right here is what I'm talking about!" Gobber scolds him.

"Mild calibration issue," Hiccups smiles cheekily, flashing his two larger front teeth.  
Gobber sighs. "Hiccup. If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you need to stop all - " he waves his arms a little to think " - this."

"But . . . you just pointed to all of me!" Hiccup says accusingly, a little pout forming at his lips.

"Yes! That's it! Stop being all of you," Gobber replies.

"Oh," Hiccup draws the word in a threatening way.

"Oh, yes," Gobber mimics.

"You, sir, are playing a dangerous game, keeping this much raw Vikingness contained. There will be consequences!" Hiccup raises a finger and shakes it a little.

"I'll take my chances," Gobber says sarcastically. He tosses a sword to Hiccup who sort of fumbles with it before holding it upright. "Sword. Sharpen. Now."

Hiccup huffs and drops it onto the grinding wheel. A rich voice reaches his ears and he turns to look behind him. He jumps and ducks behind the grinding wheel. Asmund is at the counter, handing over his ax for Gobber to take. 

"Sure thing," Gobber is saying. He turns around and holds out the ax. "Here, Hiccup, Asmund needs his ax sharpened.

"Uh, sure," Hiccup's voice cracks as he stands up. He takes the ax and examines the shiny metal and fingers the twisting handle. Asmund clears his throat.

Hiccup jolts a little and glances at Asmund. Asmund is staring at him. An explosion occurs behind him, and he turns to look. He turns back and thrusts his arms out to urge Hiccup on in his work.

"Right! Sorry!" Hiccup exclaims and nearly drops the ax. He begins to sharpen the ax, looking up a moment later only to realize Asmund is staring at him expectantly. Hiccup gives a little closed-mouth gasp and blushes before turning back to his task. He finishes and shyly walks to the counter, holding out the ax. Gobber steps out of the way.

"Uh, he-here you go," Hiccup bites his lip.

Asmund grunts and takes the ax. He squints at it as if deciding whether or not Hiccup's work meets his expectations. It appears he does as Hiccup notices his cold blue eyes softening.

"Thanks," Asmund says, sounding a little impressed. His eyes suddenly grow cold again. "Next time, move a little faster." He sprints off toward a dragon that has seemingly cornered Snotlout. Hiccup gazes after him, a dreamy smile spreading across his face.

"You know, I never did get my sword back," a random Viking pipes up. Hiccup groans as his moment dies.


End file.
